


One Last Time

by DarkKnightDan



Category: Zootopia, Zootopia (2016)
Genre: Drug Dealing, Drug Use, F/M, High School AU, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/referenced Relationship, M/M, Nick and Finnick live together, Recreational Drug Use, Some Fluff, former relationship, maybe smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-28
Updated: 2016-08-30
Packaged: 2018-08-11 12:05:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7891513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkKnightDan/pseuds/DarkKnightDan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nick and Finnick are two young foxes with a dream of being in the money, but they couldn't be farther from their dream.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Haze, Not Purple

The haze that filled the car that I currently found myself in was, unfortunately, not as purple as its source's name suggested. I, with a brain currently as foggy as the air outside of the windows, only made that fog thicker by taking another drag on the rolled paper that I held between the pads of my paws. 

The smoke that filled my lungs burned all the way down, flowing through me like electricity. Though, this dulled my senses instead of activating them. 

Once my lungs were full, I slowly exhaled, watching as something resembling a storm cloud formed from the smoke I emitted. I watched as it drifted up to the roof of the car, mingling with the smoke that had already accumulated there throughout the night. Three blunts and two hours later. 

"The cops are going to be coming this way soon." I informed the smaller fox sitting next to me, who cast a glare in my direction after taking his own drag off of the blunt.

"Yeah?" Came his bass-level reply as he held the smoldering stick of euphoria back out to me. I wanted to reply that we should probably leave, but instead I took the blunt and took another drag. Fuck the cops, I was going to enjoy myself for now.

Once I had managed to inhale as much smoke as I could, I handed the blunt off to my partner-in-drugs before exhaling. 

"Thought you were worried about the cops." I heard him mutter as I let the smoke trail out of my muzzle, a smile cracking my expression as I watched it rise.

I didn't respond. I could, I just didn't want to. Despite the knowledge that we were going to get busted, I was caught up in the moment. My sandy brown friend rolled his eyes as he took another drug, extinguishing the now too-small blunt as he exhaled. 

With our supply of weed for the night exhausted, we headed out of from where we had been smoking, opening the window every few minutes to let some of the smoke out. Even when the smoke was gone, the piss-poor smell of the grass permeated even through the multitude of air fresheners Finnick always kept in his van.

I watched the night sky as we drove, marveling at the way the stars seemed to dance while Finnick sped down the side streets that would take us home. If you could call the tiny apartment we lived in home, that is. 

I wished Finnick would turn on the radio, but I didn't feel like moving to flip the switch myself at the moment. The sound of the car's old and dying engine was really killing this peaceful vibe that I had going on. I thought to myself that we should get the engine fixed, which caused me to smirk. Getting the engine fixed would mean spending money, not spending it on weed. If it came down to this piece of shit van or the grass that got us away from Zootopia, I knew which one Finnick would choose, every time. 

If I were to be honest, I would probably choose the grass over almost anything else. It was too much fun to give up. 

"Hey Finnick." I muttered, my voice barely rising higher than a whisper as I turned my head to face my friend, who didn't say a word or take his eyes off of the road when I spoke. I knew well enough that he was listening, though.

"I was wondering.....are we expelled yet?"

"You know damn well that we aren't....we'd have more money if we were." Came Finnick's reply almost instantly, brown eyes still laser-focused on the road.

True, true, no school meant more time for money. Not that I did anything while at school, not that I went most days, either. Finnick made me, some days, other days I made him. I don't know why we did, I guess it was just something for us to do.

"Can we skip?" I asked as I pulled my legs up into the seat with me, turning so I was staring out the window again, my tail curling over my legs. 

"I don't care." Yay. 

By the time we arrived at the one-room apartment we were barely managing to pay the rent for, I was half asleep. When Finnick opened the car door, I fell out of the seat and would've face planted had I not managed to grab hold of the door frame. Without a word, Finnick turned around and walked away. I heard the distinct clanks of his footsteps ascending the wrought iron stairs that led to our apartment. 

After collecting myself, I pulled myself out of the car, adjusting the shorts that I was wearing when I managed to get to the ground. I turned, shut the door, then headed to follow Finnick. He was standing in the doorway to our house, brushing some stray paint chips out of the door, though that same amount would most likely be there in the morning.

Once I was inside, Finnick closed the once-white back door, which now had more wood showing than paint. The whole house was that way, more or less. Finnick didn't bother to turn on a light as he moved across the room, the illumination from the street lamps outside served well enough.

"Do we have anything in the fridge?" I asked, moving to the appliance in question as Finnick headed for the couch, his paws not leaving the shaggy carpeted floor as he shuffled over to the duct tape and stuffing abomination that was our couch. 

"Not that I know of." Was the reply I got as Finnick hoisted himself up onto the couch, grabbing the holier than saints blanket that rested on the back of the couch. 

Unfortunately, Finnick was right about there being nothing in the fridge, a fact that made me frown with irritation. I was a growing boy wanting a midnight snack, why was that so damn hard to come by? Oh right, no money, drugs. With the mystery of food solved, I closed the door of our decades old fridge, which rattled when I did so. 

So, with my stomach growling and my half-lidded eyes growing ever heavier, I headed over to the air mattress that was set up in the corner of the room opposite of Finnick. I didn't even bother to take off the shirt that I wore, as Finnick had. Instead, I fell muzzle first into the rubber-like mattress. 

At least it smelled better than the rest of the house, even if it wasn't comfortable, I mused as I lay facedown, my eyes staring straight into darkness. At least the smell of the weed we'd been smoking mixed with the perpetual toxic odor of the dump across the street was temporarily smothered. At least there was that.

Within minutes, Finnick's snoring filled the room, which made me put my pillow over my ears in an attempt to drown it out. I'd gotten used to trains going by late at night, car alarms going off, even the occasional shouting match, but Finnick's snoring got to me no matter what I did. 

Even with the pillow in place, I could still hear Finnick enough that I was up most of the night. Halfway through the night I got up to use the bathroom, and considered knocking myself out with a variety of pills when I did. Unfortunately, our pill cabinet was just as bountiful as our fridge. We really, really needed money, I mused. That, I decided, or we needed to stop smoking so much. 

With my business settled, and without a single pill to aid me on my journey into dreamland, I returned to my pseudo-bed. Thankfully, it seemed as though my body was finally ready to undertake my favorite journey every day, the too-fast trek to the land of sleep.


	2. Ask for This

Finnick didn't wake me up for school the next day. In fact, he didn't wake up before I left the house at all. Even after I had managed to get a shower and change, my tiny friend was still basically a rock on the couch.  
I considered waking him up, but reasoned that he wouldn't care enough not to actually get up, even if I did wake him. So, with my little friend left behind, I made my way out of the house.  
The scent of a very recent rain still lingered in the air, evidenced further by the small puddles that had collected in the potholes dotting the road outside of the apartment. From where I stood, I could generally see the edges of the sun as it encroached upon the night. However, it seemed like the sun was currently hidden from view by a collection of storm clouds that had migrated to the East.  
With my hands in my pockets, I descended the stairs that led up to the apartment, the whole wrought iron structure rattling incessantly as I did so. I mused to myself that the structure was probably going to collapse, one of these days.  
Upon checking my watch, I realized that the bus had already come and gone about twenty minutes ago. That meant I had two options; I could 1. Skip or 2. Walk across a pretty good part of the city to school. Since I was already up and moving, I decided to go with the latter.   
Walking through one of the seedier parts of Zootopia was always fun. Among the normal things you would see in a city there were the obvious drug dealers, gang members, and some people actively trying to break into cars that had been left out on the street. You'd think that this would make catching these individuals easy for the police, and you'd be wrong. The moment someone saw anything that looked like a cop car, all of these peoples would disappear into any number of apartments or alleys that the cops were afraid to go into.   
At the moment, there would be no cops around, though. They usually didn't start their patrols of this area until well into the day. I figured that this was due in part to the fact that one of the more influential crime bosses in Zootopia did a lot of his business in this area. If there wasn't a few extra zeroes in the police chief's bank account, or a barrel pointed at his family, I would be incredibly surprised.   
As I walked, I did my best to avoid the people that were a bit too much even for me. The dealers who sold harder drugs, the gangs who actually killed people, those were the guys that I stayed away from. Now, some people I greeted like friends as I made my way closer and closer to a better part of the city. There was my dealer, Finnick's dealer, and the one who we sold for every once and awhile, along with a few members of a gang that Finnick and I had once been a part of, when we were younger. Thankfully, we had left that group on good terms.   
By the time I got to school, I had picked up a small handful of bags, all full of different marijuana strains. One was for me, my supplier had said with a smile, displaying the generosity that earned him the name Santa Claws. The other four were for me to sell to the kids at school. He expected the money back, and I was fine with that, I had some grass.   
The school, in contrast to the neighborhood that I had been walking through, was almost too clean. It was a two-story building with Windows covering almost the entire second floor, the first floor looking like a fancy office building of some sort.   
Inside, the place reminded me almost of a hospital. The smell of cleaner reigned perpetually despite the multitude of animals that crowded the halls in between classes. The walls were sterile white, and looked so pristine that I had to wonder if they were cleaned every day after school. The only place that the walls weren't so sterile was where a small splatter of blood decorated the wall, a reminder of a fight that had gone on at the beginning of my junior year.   
By the time I had made it to school, the rest of the student body was already in third period. I, not wanting to interrupt class, decided to sign in and then walk around for awhile, waste some time until fourth period.   
So, I headed to the office, which was down the longest hall in the school. I imagined that his design choice was intentional, as the whole time you walked you could see the door of the office, hovering open like the maw of some great pred ready to swallow you up. I would know, I had taken that walk more times than I could care to count.  
I knocked on the door before slipping into the office, the sheep receptionist looking up from the papers she had been scanning when I entered.   
"Mr. Wilde." She said with all the joy of someone receiving news about a terminal illness, and not that they were cured. I summoned up a smile that could charm the nastiest and most hot-headed girl in the school as I leant forward, crossing my arms over my chest as I rested them on the desk.  
"Hey there Mary." I replied, not even bothering to use the more formal address that she preferred. I could tell what she wanted to say by the look on her face, that I was late, again. However, she knew better than most people that informing me of that fact wouldn't do anything to improve my attendance. So, she just wrote me a tardy slip, and sent me on my way. I took note that I would have to change the time on the slip before I headed to Chemistry.   
With my pink tardy slip in hand, and without a care about the world of Literature that my class was currently exploring, I headed in the exact opposite direction of my third period classroom, toward the bathroom where about ninety percent of the stoners in the school went to smoke. I figured that I could go ahead and get the extra bags off of my hands, get the money ready to give back to Chase after school.   
Just as I had expected, there were at least a half dozen people in that bathroom and, from the thickness of the smoke that met me when I opened the door, it seemed that they had been at it for awhile. That was both good, and bad. While they were stoned they would be more willing to buy, but that could also mean that they were reaching their limit.  
A chorus of greetings arose when I emerged into the main area of the bathroom, which was highly contrasted to the rest of the school. Hash and ash from blunts and cigarettes, respectively, littered the ground and turned the once-white tile a sickly shade of grey. Plastic bags overflowed in the trash can, along with paper towels from the regular students who occasionally had to stop in on the way to another class.   
I responded to the greeting in kind, my eyes sweeping around the room, figuring out who it was exactly that was in the room with me. I recognized Brad, a timber wolf, a junior. He and I had smoked together a few times, not a bad guy. The others were all unknowns to me, though I knew their faces in passing.   
I introduced myself to these guys, trying to make myself seem as friendly as possible. I made sure to smile when I greeted them, it made me seem more trustworthy. Once I had formally introduced myself, I asked the guys if they were interested in buying. A knowing smile split Jason's visage, he had seen me talk kids into deals before, and no doubt wanted to hear me talk these guys into overpaying.  
It didn't take much, these guys were already so far gone that I could've offered them the worst hash in Zootopia and they still would've overplayed for it. With my pocket significantly lighter, the drugs replaced by a roll of bills, I exited the bathroom a few minutes later. Not without taking a few hits of the various blunts in the room, of course.   
By the time I left the bathroom, I had just enough time to walk into the chemistry room before the late bell rang. While we potheads were doing our own kind of biochemistry in the bathroom, some seriously crazy shit went down in this room. Making compounds, controlled explosions, changing the color of fire, all the sciencey things that I would never fully understand.   
I took my place at one of the granite-topped lab stations as Ms. McHorn wrote out detailed notes concerning what we were going to be doing today. I, of course, couldn't make heads or tails of what was being written, so I left the deciphering of these cryptic words up to my lab partner, one of the smarter kids in the class that came to me for his weed. Good kid, book smart, but paid way too much for the weed that I gave him.   
Did I feel sorry for him? Yes, yes I did. Did I stop overcharging? No, no I did not.   
Ms. McHorn turned to see that I was in my seat, and a small smile crept onto her face. Out of all of the teachers at this school, she was the only one who liked me. I can't say I understood why, she just kind of did. Maybe it was the way that I sometimes tried in this class, maybe it was the way that I marveled at the things that people could do with chemicals. Maybe it was that this twenty something year old woman, who was too kind for her own good, saw something in me that no one else did.   
"Is Finnick here today?" Ms. McHorn asked, taking note that my friend's seat in the back was empty. I shook my head in response.  
"Sorry, Ms.H, he wasn't feeling well this morning." Ms. McHorn gave me a look that said she knew that I was lying, but she didn't call me out on it.   
"Well, I hope he feels better." Is all she said instead before going into her lecture for the day. I, with my brain somewhat fuzzy from the weed, zoned out almost instantly. I could hear what she was saying, but none of it really meant anything to me.   
When it came time to do our experiment, I acted as the bitch for my partner. He would ask for some chemical, or some tool, and I would give it to him as quickly as I could find it. I'd become an expert at identifying the various chemicals and tools at a glance, thanks to doing this for almost the entirety of my junior year, when I had taken this exact same class, except Finnick was the one asking me for materials.   
Before I knew it, class was over, and it was time for us to head to lunch. I attempted to make a beeline for the door, but Ms. McHorn stopped me dead in my tracks when she called my name. I turned, slowly, and met her piercing gaze. She raised a hood, and gestured me over. With a sigh, I resigned myself to the lecture I was about to get, and headed over to her.  
"How much have you smoked today?" Was her first question, which she asked as she leant down to look into my eyes, no doubt noticing that they were bloodshot.  
"Not much." Was the honest response. When three blunts a day was the norm, a couple of hits in a bathroom was child's play to me.   
"Well, you shouldn't be doing that at school, at least. How many times have I told you how much trouble that could get you in? How much trouble I could get in for ignoring it this whole time?" I could count more than two dozen times that we'd had this conversation, if I really thought about it.  
"Hey, at least I'm not coming in reeking of it anymore." I offered as a sort of consultation, which caused Ms. McHorn to pull a part of my shirt forward to sniff.  
"Wrong." She countered and I signed, running my paws up and through my fur, smoothing my ears back as I did.   
"Look, Nick, I know that you've been through a lot in the past few years. I know that it isn't easy dealing with....." There was that every present hesitation, when people wondered how to put it "with what happened." That was the usual, and the one Ms. McHorn went with.  
"But," she continued "you can't just let yourself go like this. When you were a freshman you were an A-B student, and now you're hardly ever even at school. Nick, I'm telling you as your teacher, and your friend, that you need to get some help."  
Ugh, there was that spiel again. How many times had the school counselor given me numbers for therapists, told me that I needed to find a way to get pat what happened? At this point, I could probably recite her speech word for word.  
"Look.. I appreciate that you care but, I'll be fine." I replied and Ms. McHorn frowned.   
"Nick...I know where you and Finnick are living....the school has had police come by a couple times. You guys can come live with me if you want."  
"I appreciate the thought, but I'll have to decline. We're doing fine on our own."  
"Nick, this isn't what she would want for you." At even the implication of that statement, my paws curled into fists and I had to bite my own lip to keep from yelling. Slowly, I replied.   
"You do not know anything." I accentuated each word, letting them sink in before I continued. "I will live my life how I want, and no amount of guilt tripping or pleading will make me change." With that, I turned and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind me so hard that I thought it might break the glass.   
Instead of heading for the lunchroom, I made a beeline straight for the smoke filled restroom, hoping that I could blow off some of this steam along with some smoke. Unfortunately, it seemed as though my attempts to avoid people today were just destined to be highly ineffective. Right when I turned down the hall to the stoner's bathroom I found my path blocked by a muscular frame and a smirk that I knew all too well.  
"Hey, Nicky." Came the mocking tone as that canine smirk blossomed into a full blown sick grin.   
"Could you fuck off, Tanner? I'm really not in the mood for this right now." I asserted as I stormed past him but, like the dog he was, he followed.   
"Oh come on, don't be like that. What's got my favorite boy toy's tail all In a knot?" Tanner asked as he gave my tail a pull, which caused me to jump and stop walking, instead turning to face the pure black wolf that was antagonizing me.  
"Like you have any other boy toys." I countered "anyway, shouldn't you have a cheerleader in between your legs, or should you be in between hers?" Tanner's incandescent gold eyes shone as he chuckled.  
"Someone's sassy today." He asserted and I scowled.  
"Yeah, and what are you? Brain dead? I'm saying no." Tanner grabbed me from behind then, shoving me into a locker and leaning close enough that I could smell the mint in his breath.   
"Yeah? Well, I'm giving you two options. Either you give me what I want, or I eat you out to the cops about all the drugs you've been selling." Tanner growled, displaying a picture of me handing off a Baggie of weed to emphasize his point.  
"Fuck." I murmured   
"That's what I'm wanting, yes." Tanner replied with a smirk.  
"Do you have a condom?"  
"Of course, I'm not trying to get anything from your gay ass." Tanner replied as he pushed me toward the bathroom.   
It seemed like my day was only going downward the more it went on.


	3. Spilling Over

"Would you not bogart the fucking blunt?" I shot at Finnick, who cocked a brow as he took his third drag from the blunt, which he hadn't passed to me yet. 

"I'll pass it when your breath doesn't smell like wolf dick." Finnick countered and I almost punched him from across the couch. Man, he could be a real asshole sometimes.

"Last time I checked, that's my weed, so I suggest you pass." I said and Finnick rolled his eyes, holding the blunt out to me with as much enthusiasm as I'd had when Tanner had pushed me into the bathroom. 

I grabbed the blunt and took a long drag of it, keeping the smoke contained within my lungs for as long as I could before exhaling it slowly, watching it curl up out of my muzzle before taking another drag. Once I had filled my lungs, I handed the blunt back off to Finnick as I exhaled.

"We need money." I announced and Finnick raised a brow.

"Why? We've got free hash for the night."

"Food is always a good thing to have, and I haven't eaten in the last couple days." I replied. Finnick shrugged as he took another drag from the blunt. 

"If you want to eat, that's on you. I go over to Krystal's to eat." Of course, Finnick would eat at the only place that he would go besides our house. "Why don't you tell Tanner to start treating you like a boyfriend instead of a side bitch? Maybe he'd buy you some food."

"Finnick, are you fucking kidding me? That dude uses me for sex and you're wanting me to hook up with him?"

"I'm telling you to do what you have to do. You aren't going to get any handouts out here, that's for sure. Tanner treats all of his girlfriends well, right?"

"How the fuck should I know?"

"Well, you're basically one of his bitches." With that, I snatched the blunt out of Finnick's hand and snuffed it in the ash tray that we had been using. 

"Fuck you." I shot, hoping that my ire was as clear in my tone as it was in my head. "I'm leaving." I pushed the blunt into my pocket as I stalked toward the door, not bothering to shut the door when I went out. 

The night sky was clear that night, the moon full enough that it cast enough illumination for me to walk by. 

Goddamn Finnick, being a prick when I needed him most. I mean, what kind of friend decides not to give a semblance of a shit when his friend since elementary school is being blackmailed? Finnick, that's who.

It didn't take long of walking before I saw a pair of red and blue lights casting their glare on the ground in front of me. Wonderful, just fucking wonderful, a cop that actually enforced curfew. 

The cop pulled over and I quickly cast the blunt that I had into the grass on the side of the road, doing so discretely enough that I hoped the cop wouldn't have seen my movement. 

"How're you doing tonight young man?" The cop, a guy if I could tell by the voice, said as he got out of the car. I heard the door shut and then he took a few steps toward me, his face still shadowed by the patrol cap he was wearing. From what I could tell, he was a tiger, a Siberian one at that.

"I'm alright, how're you, Officer?" I asked as I shoved my hands into my pockets, shifting my weight from foot to foot as he approached. This guy was easily double my size, but he didn't come off as threatening. Instead, the kind smile that he wore, along with the gentle look in his blue eyes, actually put me at ease. 

"I'm doing just fine. Do you realize what time it is?"

"Actually, I don't." I replied and the Officer took his smart phone out of his pocket, holding it out for me to see. The screen displayed the time as three thirty in the morning. 

"Oh." I said, having obviously lost track of time when Finnick and I were smoking. "I'm sorry, Officer. My roommate and I got into a fight and I had to get out for a few minutes."

"Oh, well, at least you have a reason. Why don't you step over here, we can talk." Not wanting to disobey the officer who was actually displaying kindness to me. I stepped over to his patrol car, which he was now leaning on.

"What's your name?" He asked.

"Nick Wilde." Was my reply.

"Well Nick, I'm Officer DelGato, do you want to tell me what exactly happened between you and your roommate?" I proceeded to tell the Officer about Finnick and I arguing, leaving out the part about me getting blackmailed and us smoking weed, of course. When I finished my story, Officer DelGato nodded.

"So your roommate and you, are you romantically involved?"

"No, we're just friends." I assured.

"Just checking, did your roommate do anything to physically harm you? Any punches, pushes?"

"No."

"Well, can you tell me what the argument was about? All you told me is that you two were arguing. Was it over money, drugs, a girl?" I cast a look over at Officer DelGato that questioned how smart it would be for me to tell him about drug use.

"I just want the truth." He assured at the sight of my expression. 

"Look...I'm just in a really bad situation right now I..." I paused. I didn't know what to tell this guy, I didn't know how much I could trust him, but fuck it. At least he was being genuinely kind to me.

"I was blackmailed into sex today.." I muttered and I almost instantly felt Officer DelGato place a paw on my shoulder.

"Can you tell me who did this to you?" He whispered and I shook my head.

"Why not?"

"I've done some illegal things too, and he knows about it. He'll get me thrown in jail if I snitch on him." I whispered and Officer DelGato sighed.

"If you're talking about drug possession, that carries a much lighter sentence than rape, Nick. If you come clean to me right now about what you've done, I'll see what I can do about getting you a light sentence, but you can't let that stop you from telling me about what this guy did. If he did it once he's not going to be afraid to do it again unless you put a stop to it." I sighed. I knew Officer DelGato was right, so I told him everything.

I told him about the drug dealing, about how I was smoking just awhile ago, about how there was a half-smoked blunt somewhere in the bushes. With that, Officer DelGato said that he was going to have to arrest me, but he assured me that everything would be alright.

For some stupid reason, I trusted him.  
I was put in the back of Officer DelGato's cruiser, my hands remaining cuffed behind my back even after he shut the door. The whole way to the station, he asked me about my life, what he apparently deemed to be important, anyway.

He asked me if there was a reason to why I smoked, if I did it just for recreational purposes or if it was some kind of escape method. 

That was a question I had never answered, not even to myself, really. I had always chalked up my smoking to the fact that Finnick started it, but there had always been an underlying reason for it, I guess. 

"Look." I sighed "I'm sure if you ask my school about what happened a couple of years ago then you'll get all of the answers you need....."

"I want to hear it from you, if that's alright." Without warning, I felt tears well up in my eyes, spilling over for the first time in years.

"I lost my mom, alright?" I sputtered out, tears now drawing tiny streams down my face, carving canals through my fur.

"When I was a freshman she was killed in a car crash, and I just couldn't handle the world anymore. I had no one but Finnick, and now I don't even have him." I wanted to wipe my tears away, but with my hands behind my back I could only bow my head as I attempted to stop the flow emanating from my eyes.

There was nothing but silence in the car then. I could sense that Officer DelGato was trying to think of something to say, but he didn't say a word until we arrived at the station. 

"Alright, we'll be quick about this." Officer DelGato whispered kindly before getting out of the driver seat, opening the back door and helping me out of the seat. At this point, I had managed to stem the flow of tears, but I still couldn't raise my head from the weight that had suddenly settled on my shoulders.

The rest of that night was a blur of faces and names, reciting the same story I had told Officer DelGato, confessing to my crimes and, later, a call to the school when it had opened. All of this culminated in Officer DelGato informing me that he had paid my bail, and was willing to let me stay at his place until my trial, a month from that day. 

I declined, instead saying that I would stay with Finnick. He was still my friend, after all. With a look of dissatisfaction, Officer DelGato insisted on driving me home if that was the case and, when we arrived, he gave me his phone number, insisting that I could call if I ever needed anything. 

I thanked him for the ride, and the number, but when he was out of sight I tore the paper into shreds and let the pieces scatter about the road before heading up to the apartment.

At this point, I didn't want anyone's help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I might write one more chapter today. I hope everyone is enjoys reading this as much as I enjoy writing it.


	4. Pick Up and Go

Before going in for my trial, Officer DelGato met with me at my apartment. It was strange to open he door and see a police officer taking up the majority of my doorway, and I actually almost slammed the door before I realized who it was. I asked him to give me a minute, shut the door, and woke up Finnick. I told him to hide all of our stuff while I brought the officer inside. Finnick didn't seem very pleased about a police officer coming into my house, but I didn't really care. 

Finnick gathered up his pipe and our grinder, stuffing it under the pillow that he'd been resting on moments ago, and then he sat on the pillow. While he was doing that, I opened the door to Officer DelGato and let him inside, explaining that I hadn't let him in because Finnick had been sleeping. He said that he understood, and then asked Finnick if he could step outside while we talked. Finnick, probably very pissed about being kicked out of his own apartment, hopped off the couch and stormed to the door, slamming it behind him when he exited.

"So, what's up?" I asked and Officer DelGato sighed, taking off his patrol cap before speaking.

"Look, Nick. I need to talk to you about the guy who uh....y'know." He left that hanging up in the air, but I wasn't about to correct the ambiguity of his statement, nor was I about to add on to it.

"What about him?" I questioned, and Officer DelGato bit his lip.

"Look Nick, I'm sorry, but there's not enough hard evidence to get him into court. The judge threw the case out." Within a moment I was shoving DelGato toward the door.

"Nick wait-"

"Fuck you!" I yelled as I pushed him out the door, where Finnick was leaning against the railing of the stairs. I felt tears welling up, but managed to contain them, along with the fists I wanted to throw at this bastard's lying face.

"You told me that if I came clean then you would nail him." I screamed, now I'm a fury. I felt Finnick's paws on my stomach holding me back, and I just shot a deadly glare at DelGato.

"I'm sorry, but the judge doesn't trust the word of a fox." Oh. Of course. I was shaking with fury now and, instead of saying anything else, I turned around and stormed back inside. Finnick followed, slamming the door in the tiger's face as he followed me.

"This is why you shouldn't trust cops." Finnick announced and I turned on him, my legs shaking as I barely managed to keep myself up. I wanted pills, or weed, or Both. Fuck, I wanted some booze too. Unfortunately, we didn't have any of that, so I just sank down on the wall and put my head in my paws. 

"I'm going to jail and that fucker is walking free." I muttered, and I felt Finnick rest a paw on my shoulder.

"We can leave if you want, head out to the Burroughs, just like we did back when we got in trouble with the West Side." That wasn't a bad idea, I still remembered that little shack we had stayed in when we were just barely into our teenage years. We'd smoked and played video games all day, not even bothering to care if the cops came for us. 

"Let's do it." I announced and, with a few moments, we started gathering stuff up, shoving it into backpacks and duffle bags that we kept mainly for deals. Even though we'd only done this once before in action, we'd practiced it too many times to count.

Within five minutes of our announcement to leave, Finnick and I were pulling away from the one room piss-hole that we had called home for nearly a year. 

"Thanks for the memories," I muttered while I gazed at the house in the rear-view mirror "but go fuck yourself, you piece of shit."

"Man, are you talking to our house?"

"Yeah? You do it all the time."

"Not like that, weirdo." It was strange, how Finnick and I talked at that moment. It was like the tension that had been overshadowing us for the majority of the past week had suddenly dissipated, left behind in the house that we were evicting ourselves from. 

"What's it take to get to that old house? Two, three hours?" 

"That's about right." Finnick replied as he kept his eyes locked on the road. He reached over and turned on the radio, sending some old rock music blasting through the sound system as we drove.

"Man, I missed this." I whispered as I keep my eyes on the road that stretched out ahead of us for what seemed like eternity. For me, there was nothing like the open road. It was freedom, from limits and from emotion. Nothing could touch me on the road, nothing could hold me back. 

"Yeah, it's pretty nice." Finnick muttered without a single glance in my direction. 

"You know we'll have to ditch the car right?" A sigh.

"Yes. I know we'll have to ditch the goddamn car. When do you think would be good?"

"I'd say somewhere between here and Bunnyburough, probably where that big forest is right by there.....isn't there a lake around there?"

"I'm not driving a car into a lake again."

"Thats the best way to get rid of it, though."

"Nick, I'm not up for that. We'll just ditch it as far in the forest as we can get, then head toward the Burroughs." 

"Fine." 

It took about three hours, but we eventually arrived in the forest by Bunnyburough. Finnick drove as far into a cluster of trees that he could, then we both got out of the car, each carrying a couple of backpacks.

Time to start all over again.


	5. Shards

I sat out on the front porch of the house, my paws brushing over the rough wood as I watched the first rays of the sun beginning to peak over the edge of the horizon. The smell of dew hung in the air, and there was just enough of a chill that I had brought a blanket out to the porch with me, which I as now currently wrapped in. Somewhere, I heard a cicada buzzing in the trees. Everything seemed so....peaceful, if that was the right word for it. 

The near-silence of the morning was broken when I heard the door open, and then close just as swiftly as it opened. Finnick sat down next to me, holding an unmarked bottle of Amber liquid that sloshes around when he moved to take his place next to me. 

"Did you sleep?" He muttered, the bags under his eyes indicating that he had probably gotten just as much sleep as I had.

"What do you think?" I responded, and Finnick held out the bottle that he pulled up from our old stash, the one we had put under the floorboards when we were first here, almost three years ago. I unscrewed the cap, inhaled the burning scent, and then took a swig. It didn't have the same burn as weed, but it was just as pleasant to me.

After I swallowed my swig, shivering at the burn that radiated throughout my entire body, I handed the bottle back to Finnick. He took the bottle, and took a swig just like I had.

"When did you sleep last?"

"Last week, the night before DelGato picked me up."

"That's not healthy, man."

"Well, I can't exactly go to the Doctor, can I?" I shot as I snatched the bottle my friend held out to me, taking a few swallows this time before handing it back.

"I could check if we still have any pills stashed....I sort of remember that recipe that knocked you out last time." Last time, I couldn't judge at this point if that was worse than this or not. I had Finnick with me both times but last time....last time I hadn't felt so goddamn broken down.

I hadn't slept since that day, but I hadn't eaten either. That made a grand total of eleven days without food. My stomach begged for something besides alcohol and water, but....I didn't feel like I deserved it.

Finnick had actually bought me food, but I'd just put it back after he'd gone out to get other things, on foot, might I add. Did I like doing that? No, not really, but I didn't know what else to do.

That was basically the story of my life at the moment, I didn't know what the hell to do. I couldn't go back to the city because there was definitely a warrant out for my arrest, I couldn't really go into the Burroughs because I know how much bunnies trust foxes. 

"Finnick......I don't know why I didn't stop Tanner." I admitted and Finnick cocked a brow at me.

"Because you didn't want to get arrested? Nick, stop beating yourself up over it."

"I don't mean then.....I mean all of the other times." I whispered and Finnick's brows furrowed.

"There were other times?"

"Yeah...." I sighed, wrapping my arms around my knees, and leaning my head forward so that it touched the twin peaks. 

"Nick, why didn't you tell me?" Came Finnick's concerned whisper, drowned out when I took a drink of burning amber.

"What was there to tell?" I murmured as I set the bottle on the porch between us, my eyes firmly locked on the grass at the end of the steps. 

"The guy's name so I could have had him taken care of. Nick, getting caught being stupid is one thing, but straight up rape is another." Finnick urged.

That word caused me to shoot up off of the stairs and storm into the house, my legs shaking as I walked, my head clouded by alcohol and anger, a dangerous combination.

"Nick, don't walk away from me." I heard Finnick command from behind me, his voice as stern as a stone wall when he spoke. Instead of answering, I went into the bathroom and shut the door, holding it closed by sitting down against it.

"Nick." I heard my friend on the other side, but I ignored him as the tears welled up in my eyes. A few days ago, I might've been able to contain them. Now, there was no way.

"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" I yelled, each repetition louder than the rest as I grabbed the nearest object, an old jar, and hurled it at the wall. The glass shattered, sending shards in all directions as the plaster wall gained a hole the size of my fist.

"Goddamnit Nick! Don't break shit!" I heard Finnick yell from the other side of the door. I had to stop, there was nothing else to break. The shards of glass tantalized me though, bringing me back to darker days when I was younger and had found myself in similar places. The tears continued to stream as I picked up one of the larger shards, holding it up to the light and marveling how the light gleamed off the edge just like it did on razor blades.

It would've been easy at that moment, to start the brutal process of carving into my wrists again. I held the shard less than an inch away from my arm, ready to succumb to that internal urge that had eaten at me for so long, begging to revived.

What would I be then? That would be letting all the things that had ever torn at me win, and so I dropped the shard. The paw-long shard shattered on the floor, sending smaller shards under my legs as I slowly stood, and opened the door. Finnick instantly grabbed my arms, eyes wide and frantic as he scanned over them.

"Son of a bitch, you scared the shit out of me." Finnick said before pulling me into an embrace, like the ones we'd shared when we were just kids.

"I....I'm sorry I-I..."

"I understand." Finnick whispered before shoving the bottle we'd been drinking from into my paws.

"Drink that." He ordered "I'm going to find a dealer, and get us some hash. You need it."

"I'm coming with you." I informed my friend before taking a long swig from the bottle. There was a flash of worry in Finnick's eyes, then a sigh emanated from him.

"Fine. Just....if you need a minute then tell me, okay?"

"Yeah.....okay." I whispered, still slightly out of it. Finnick led the way out of the house, I followed right behind him, still holding the bottle. When we got outside, we started down the only road away from the house, dust pluming up behind us as we went.


	6. Spinning

By the time Finnick and I made it to Bunnyburough, the sun was a good ways into its journey through the sky, and the alcohol I had drank this morning was hitting me like a fucking bus. Finnick, unlike me, walked like he hadn't touched a drop of alcohol in his life, while I was struggling just to maintain a semblance of balance. 

"This was a bad idea." Finnick murmured and I smirked.

"What? Afraid all the bunnies are going to be afraid of a fox who can't even walk straight?"

"I'm more afraid you're going to do something stupid right now." Finnick countered, which caused me to roll my eyes, giving him a dismissive wave.

"I'm fine, I'm fine." I assured him. "I could walk in a straight line all the way back to the house, if I wanted to." 

"So you're just choosing to stumble around?" Finnick questioned and I nodded.

"Watch." I commanded, stopping and standing straight up, putting my feet together before beginning to walk forward, heel to toe. By the way I wobbled, I'm sure I looked like someone walking on a high wire. That, or I looked like a drunk, probably the latter. 

"Yeah, you're doing really well." Finnick muttered half heartedly as he walked past me, hands in the pockets of the green shorts that he wore.

"Do you think we could by some alcohol in town?" I questioned "I would really like more alcohol." If it was any indication as to how out of it I was, I referred to the town like it was miles away even as Finnick and I were walking down the Main Street. 

"Do you have your ID?" Finnick answered my question with his own. I checked my pockets, and realized that I had forgotten my wallet at the house.

"Do you?" I slurred, and Finnick shook his head.

"Sorry." Was all he said. We continued to walk through the town, my stumbling occasionally drawing a stray glance from a bunny mother with her kit, or kits, in most cases.

Finnick would, occasionally, wave at some of the bunnies, making an indication toward me like he was telling them I was just a bit out of it, which they seemed to understand. 

By the time we got to the grocery store, I was more or less unable to walk. So, when Finnick pulled a cart out and told me that I had to push it, I just laid almost my entire upper body across it, pushing it forward with my chest instead of my hands. 

I was starting to feel sick at this point, the way that the world swam around me was starting to mess with my head. Finnick instructed me to just keep my head down and, if I needed to puke, to do it away from any other animals.

My friend must have been able to see into the future because, halfway through our journey into the grocery, my legs suddenly gave out from under me, and the liquid in my stomach came rushing back up, burning even worse than it had going down. 

"Just get it all out." I heard Finnick from somewhere behind me. I felt his paws on my shoulders, unmoving as it seemed like he was just ensuring that I kept my head down. 

"Hey buddy, if your friend alright?" I heard a gentle voice from somewhere in front of me, which was responded to by Finnick's significantly deeper tone.

"Yeah, I mean, not right now, but he'll be fine." Finnick assured.

"Alright, I'll go get a mop." Soon after the guy with the kind voice departed, I wretched one last time, though nothing came out. 

"Can you help me get him up?" I heard Finnick ask, but from where my eyes were still glued to the floor I had no idea who he was talking to. 

I felt a gentle pair of paws on my arms. 

"Hey buddy," the same voice that had talked about getting a mop said. "Let's get you up, alright?" I nodded wordlessly. The guy counted down from three and then lifted me to my feet. I tried to lift my head, but with the weakness that was currently overcoming my body, I only managed to lean my head back against the guy's shoulder.

"Hey there." I muttered, staring into a jaw of silver fur.

"Hey." The guy responded to me before addressing Finnick "I'm going to take him back to the break room while we get this cleaned up, and while you finish getting what you need, is that alright?"

"Yeah, that's fine. Thanks man." Finnick replied to the guy's offer.

"Alright, can you walk?" The guy asked and I attempted to get my feet into a good position where they would support my weight. They did, but barely.

"I need help." I murmured and the guy nodded.

"Alright, I gotcha." So, with this guy's help, I made it back to the break room of the store, where he gently set me down in a chair. When I managed to get a good view of him, I realized that he was a fox, just like me. Well, not just like me, he had silver fur and bright blue eyes.

"Hey there." I greeted again, and the guy cracked a smile. 

"Hey again." Was his retort.

"I'm Nick." I slurred, offering him my paw in greeting. He chuckled before shaking my paw.

"Garth." He replied. "Are you feeling any better?"

"That depends, is the world supposed to be spinning right now?"

"I'd say not, generally it's supposed to be still." Garth said with a smile remaining on his face.

"Oh." Was my only response, and Garth informed me that he was going to go and clean up the mess, assuring me that'd he'd be back within a few minutes.

During those few minutes that he was gone, I marveled at how attractive those blue eyes of his were. Not usually something I noticed about people, but they were pretty damn nice. His fur was nice, too, I had never seen a fox with silver fur before.

When Garth returned he went over to a small set of cubbies, rummaging around in a bag before pulling out a black shirt and handing it to me. When I gave him a questioning look he just smiled. 

"Your shirt has a bit of a stain on it, I thought you'd want a clean one."

"Oh....thanks." I said as I slipped my shirt off before pulling the other one on. It was an old megrowlica t-shirt, one that looked like it had been brought back when the band was still new. From how thin the fabric was, it felt that way, too. 

"You can pay me back by giving me your number." 

"I don't have a phone." I responded and Garth cocked a brow. 

"Really? How about you pay me back with a meet up." I did not like the sound of that.

"Uh.....I don't know." I murmured, suddenly wishing that Finnick was here.

"Oh, not like that." Garth assured with a smile, almost instantly sensing my discomfort it seemed.

"How about when you're feeling better you can just come back around. We can hang out, you could even bring your friend if you liked." That, made me feel a little bit better.

"Uh....sure." I said, trying to contain the fear that was swiftly rising in my chest. Thankfully, Finnick came in and got me, so I stumbled out past with him, leaving Garth without so much as a goodbye.


End file.
